


Baltimore State

by teacuptribbles



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane, Established Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter, Everyone is really unhealthy, M/M, Manipulation, Not Canon Compliant, Nurses & Nursing, Original Character(s), Psychologists & Psychiatrists, Season 3 Finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-03
Updated: 2019-12-03
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:35:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21654598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teacuptribbles/pseuds/teacuptribbles
Summary: Hannibal "the Cannibal" Lecter is the most feared patient at Baltimore State Forensic Hospital.  Natalie is the charge nurse on his unit.  She knew caring for him would be an ordeal, but she was unprepared for how much she would discover, and the ways it would change her.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 27
Kudos: 172





	Baltimore State

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone,
> 
> As you know I’ve been out of commission for some time. The reason for this is the piece below. For over a year, I worked at a state forensic psychiatric hospital. It was not, I think it goes without saying, an easy job, and while I loved and dedicated myself to it, it took a lot out of me physically, intellectually, and spiritually. I didn’t have it in me to write anything but this. Thank you for continuing to read, kudos, and comment on my pieces. I always hoped to come back.
> 
> This plays with canon a little bit. Adjustments were made for a more accurate depiction of a forensic hospital, and some dialogue/scenes were inspired by the Thomas Harris books. Overall, this takes place in Season 3 while Hannibal is hospitalized, shortly before and after the escape. 
> 
> Trigger warnings for psych hospitalizations, violence, drinking, co-dependency, brief eating disorder mention, lots of not fun stuff. 
> 
> I do not own the characters associated with the books or show. This is OC heavy. 
> 
> Dedicated to everyone who works in behavioral health. Thank you for all that you do, with little to nothing.
> 
> (And to L.—I hope you’re alright.)

**Baltimore State**

_“We could comprehend our_

_condition by the moon,_

_but they’ve ordered the moon not to shine._

_Still, I’m glad you’ve come along,_

_I was worried out of my mind._

_'Cause they keep bringing out the dead,_

_it’s easy just to look away._

_They’re bringing out the dead now_

_and it’s been a long, strange day.”—“Messiah Ward,” Nick Cave_

Despite a relentless and costly renovation project, Baltimore State Forensic Hospital appeared much as it had in 1852. It was tall and gray, its front entrance framed by the Roman-style columns favored in the period.

Natalie Durani had not used this entrance since first being hired three years ago. She parked in the back right, nearest the J unit. J had many names, depending on who was talking about it: Unit J, the Junkyard, Jollyville. But most people referred to it using the NATO phonetic—Juliet.

As she walked down the dim, seafoam green hall, she felt the familiar, strange mix of apprehension and comfort she always felt when she approached the metal door of the nurse’s station.

A young man—very young, not more than twenty by her estimate—was sitting at the charge nurse’s computer waiting for her. He was in white scrubs. She bit her cheek.

She didn’t hate having nursing students, but she hated that they could be here. It was one thing if the student was interested in her actual nursing work. That was rewarding, educating them on conditions and medications they might never encounter otherwise. But all too often, the students wanted the gritty, sensational details of what her patients did to get there. They wanted to be spooked. Male students especially. 

And she _technically_ wasn’t supposed to have a student, anyway. 

She waved to her student before rounding the corner to see who she was on with today. Sitting at the other end of the nurse’s station was Anna, which explained the student at her desk. Anna was nearing retirement and as a result was growing resentful and lazy. She disliked that Natalie was charge. She disliked the patients. She disliked students. She disliked everything.

“Anna,” Natalie began carefully, knowing it was going to be an argument, “I really can’t have a student. Please—”

“I already took it to Charles. It’s not fair that I always have them. He agreed you need to be in the rotation again. You’ll see the email when you log in.”

And with that, she turned away, giving Natalie the back of her bleached blonde head. In moments like these, Natalie wanted to push her into a room with a choice selection of patients and lock the door. Instead, she executed her revenge by going to the whiteboard and moving two of her patients’ names to Anna’s side. It didn’t matter much as Anna had her techs do everything, but it would make her day a little longer. _There, you big bitch._

Natalie introduced herself to the student and learned his name was Seth. He hadn’t opened his clinical bag or notebook while waiting for her, which she took as a bad sign. He also didn’t seem particularly interested in the safety protocols, his eyes glazing over when she covered the rules—never be alone with or give your back to a patient, here’s how to radio for help in an emergency, as a student you can’t participate in emergency meds or restraints. He only scooted in toward her when she brought out their patient list. 

“I’m going to be honest with you. I don’t usually take students because I’m charge and there’s a particular…situation I have to deal with. Barney is one of our techs today and he’s the best. He’s worked here forever, all the patients love him. He’s not going to let you get hurt. So I’m going to have you be with Barney most of the day, and I’ll be with you for the nursing stuff for the patient that you pick. I’ve highlighted the best ones for students. Is there a certain diagnosis you need to focus on for your care plan?”

He looked down the list and frowned. “I thought Hannibal Lecter was on this unit?”

And there it was.“He is, but we don’t allow students to work with him.”

“Why? You highlighted Multiple Miggs, and the previous class said they saw him attack a tech.”

Natalie stopped herself from saying _So what?_ In the event he was referring to, Miggs had pushed a tech during a psychotic episode. His meds were being changed and the tech was not even fazed, let alone hurt. She had to remind herself that for most people, especially a group of college kids, this was not a daily occurrence that could be brushed off.

She swallowed her impatience. “Miggs—his name is Ian, by the way, please don’t call him Multiple—is a good one for students because he’s actively psychotic but not impulsive on his current meds. He’s on Clozaril, which is a good medication to learn about. He’s shy but approachable.”

“What’s he like?”

“Actually really sweet. He can do weird things sometimes, like pee in the middle of the dayroom, but that’s just because he’s still so ill.”

“Sorry, I meant Hannibal the Canni…Dr. Lecter.”

Well, that was an improvement. She leaned back and twirled her pen between her fingers. “The reason we don’t let him work with students is because he’s too dangerous. He can ruin your life with a single conversation.”

That seemed to sate Seth’s curiosity for now.Luckily she heard Barney’s unmistakable thundering walk down the hallway.“Barney!Glad to see you.”

“Likewise, Miss Natalie.”Barney was an enormous man, his broad shoulders stretching his powder blue scrub top tight.Yet he had a warmth to him that made him extremely likeable.He exuded patience in a way that only a mental health worker of fifteen years could. 

When he saw the young man with blonde curls sitting next to Natalie, he knew the plan for the day.“Barney, this is Seth.Would you mind showing him around today?”

“Not at all.Ian for him, Natalie?”

“I think he’s the only one of ours that’s appropriate.Seth, I’m going to let Barney take over for now.I’ll come find you when it’s time for Ian’s meds.”

Seth followed Barney wordlessly through the double doors leading onto the unit. _Thank God.I’m so behind already._

Natalie logged into her work email, and sure enough there was a message from her manager titled “Accepting nursing students.”

She sighed and moved on to the electronic medical record.Every morning she created her patient list first.One patient was always on her list, and next to his name was the red envelope indicating new orders.She blinked a few times, believing she wasn’t seeing it correctly.She couldn’t remember the last time this patient had new orders.

_Maybe he wanted a diet change or prescription-strength ibuprofen or something._

She clicked on the envelope to see orders for haloperidol and clonazepam titrations.There had to be a mistake. _Maybe a resident put in these orders on accident._ She clicked on them again.

ORDER ENTRY: ALANA BLOOM, MD

Now she was lost.She decided to check one more thing. 

Every doctor’s note included the patient’s diagnosis.Baltimore State’s EMR still used the DSM-IV, and as a result each doctor’s note ended with a list of Axes.Since his admission, this patient’s had read: _Axis I. Post-traumatic stress disorder Axis II. Antisocial personality disorder._ When she clicked Dr. Bloom’s most recent note, however, it read: _Axis I. Post-traumatic stress disorder Axis I. Psychotic Disorder Not Otherwise Specified Axis II. Narcissistic personality disorder._

She picked up the phone as quickly as she could, and after eight or so rings hung up.She refreshed her screen until her task list filled with new orders written by Dr. Bloom. _Damn it, Alana._ She chose to walk upstairs, hoping the steps would burn off the angry energy before she said something stupid. 

Sure enough Alana was in her office talking on her cell phone.She saw Natalie approaching from the hall and waved her in.Natalie closed the door behind her. 

They had known each other since Alana was in her residency at Johns Hopkins Psychiatry, where Natalie was in her preceptorship.They had nearly dated, going to dinner once before deciding it wasn’t a good idea in their positions.Natalie respected Alana, but that was slipping.The state hospital had done to her what it did to everyone: it had overworked her and made her cynical.

When Alana ended her phone call, she looked at Natalie expectantly.“I have a guess as to what you’re going to say.”

“Since when does Hannibal Lecter need Haldol?”

Alana sighed and started reading something that had been left on her desk.“I’ve been thinking about his treatment since he attacked Rebecca.It’s possible that I’ve been too shortsighted. Maybe things I previously interpreted as behavioral are actually indicative of a psychotic disorder. He was severely traumatized.”

“Alana,” Natalie said in exasperation.She rarely called her Alana at work.“He’s less mentally ill than I am.What’s really going on?”

Alana suddenly looked very tired.Pale.“He attacked one of my nurses out of nowhere.Maybe I missed something.”

Natalie nearly rolled her eyes but caught herself.“He attacked her because she was rude.She never greeted the patients, always had her phone out.She was texting when she was in the exam room with him, it was on camera.”

The doctor looked at her with annoyance.“So she deserved to have her nose bitten off?”

“In his eyes, yes.That’s nothing new, people are disposable to him.Isn’t that the hallmark of sociopathy?” 

Alana turned her eyes to her computer screen now, indicating that she wanted this conversation to be over.“I think he might benefit from medication.”

“He’ll never agree to it.”

“Good thing he’s court-ordered, then.”

“What?”This was alarming news to Natalie.A court order for forced psychiatric medication was not something a charge nurse should be unaware of.“When did this happen?”

“On your days off last week.”

Natalie felt hot. _You…Alana, I can’t fucking believe this.Fuck you and that spineless social worker.You two aren’t the ones who have to give him this shit._ “And the clonazepam is for what?‘Flashbacks?’”

“Aggression.”

“'Aggression,'” Natalie scoffed.“Rebecca’s suing, isn’t she?Just tell me you’re trying to cover your ass—“

“I really need to get back to work.I’m sure Barney can help you give the injection.”

“I’m not going to need it.”With that, Natalie stood up and left hurriedly, her work clogs squeaking against the tile of Alana’s office.

***

She stared at the medication in front of her, medication she had given hundreds of times before. Haldol, Klonopin. The most common meds in this place, and she was staring at the little white pills like she had never seen them before. 

_Do I bring the shot? God, I don’t want to call a code on him. It would be a mess and he doesn’t need the damn thing anyway._

She placed the packages in her pocket and stared at the syringes for a while before making her way upstairs. His room took up damn near all of the fourth floor.Each time she walked up the old stone steps, a tingle went up her spine. She wasn’t afraid of Lecter necessarily, but she had to watch herself with him. She had to monitor every word and gesture, yet she couldn’t control herself so much as to appear disingenuous. She had to disclose a little to build trust and rapport, but not too much as to put herself in danger. Before putting her key in the door, she always checked her reflection in her phone screen. He noticed when she looked less than put together, and he wasn’t shy about commenting on it. 

She let out a deep breath and unlocked the door. 

As always, Hannibal was standing at the front of his room with his hands behind his back, waiting for her. 

“You’re late today.” 

His voice was getting raspy. He only spoke with her and Barney, and Dr. Bloom if he felt like it. 

“I know, I’m sorry.” She smiled at him. After her days off, it was good to see him.She liked him, despite everything, despite what that might say about her. “I just learned about the new orders. Did you go to court?” 

She unlocked the plastic barrier that separated them. Hannibal stepped back compliantly. Wednesdays were laundry days, and accordingly he had a basket ready for her, full of thin white sheets and thinner gray scrubs. No one, not even the housekeepers, went near him anymore. It was all her and Barney, when he had the time.

“I did.” He brought his hands in front of him now, where Natalie could see them. 

“Why?,” she went over to the basket, careful to be facing his direction. 

He smirked.The sharp points of his canines appeared as he did so.“For entertainment, and to get out of this room.” 

“How the hell did they get you down there without me?”Not another soul had touched him in the four months since he left Rebecca looking like The Phantom.

“It was a circus. There must have been twenty people here to strap me into that heinous cart.” 

“Did you put up a fight?,” she asked, knowing the answer. 

“Of course not. I’m not insane.” 

She laughed. “No, none of my NGRIs are.Good actors with good attorneys, all of you.” 

He brought his hand to his chest. “Are you accusing me of being manipulative?” 

The question shot cold fear through Natalie’s belly. Maybe she had taken their familiarity for granted. But if he was truly offended, there was nothing she could do to save herself. She knew that the day they met. 

She looked him in the eye and raised her hand, showing a small space between her index finger and thumb. “Maybe a little.” 

When he smiled, it both relaxed and unsettled her. He had a unique smile, with sharp, crooked teeth. It made him look predatory, wolfish.Yet the fact that he had never “fixed” his smile despite his wealth was endearing to her. It was exhausting, the contradictions one had to juggle in this place. 

She pushed the laundry basket outside of his room and palmed the packages in her pocket. _Alright, here goes nothing._

There were cameras everywhere in Baltimore State.Cameras in the halls, the courtyards, the nurse’s stations.The only places out of view were patient rooms.Invasion of privacy, Client’s Rights said. 

Natalie stepped closer to him, closing the door behind her.His copper eyes widened slightly in curiosity before becoming steady again.She placed the packages in her hand and extended them to Hannibal. “I’m going to give you these, and then I’m going to turn around. Whatever you do with them is up to you. Just promise me you won’t stockpile them to kill yourself.” 

Something strange happened across his face.Hannibal’s two expressions were non-existent and superficial charm.Now, though, his eyes crinkled with warmth, and his mouth relaxed into something like a gentle smile.He bowed his head. “I promise.” 

As she said she would, she turned around.She tracked the sound of his feet, ensuring they didn’t get too close.She heard him reach his bed, adjust his only pillow, and sit down.

“The deed is done.”

She turned to face him.He looked quite content, in a way she hadn’t seen him before.

He leaned forward and laced his fingers across his top knee.She had almost forgotten he was a psychiatrist until she saw that motion.

“If you are found out, you will be fired, and possibly reported to the Board.What makes it worth it?”Again, like a shrink, he cocked his head to the side.

The effect worked.The words poured out before Natalie could swallow them back.“I'm going to be straight with you. What they’re trying to do to you is bullshit.We were dangerously short-staffed that day, there were no techs to accompany you and Rebecca to the EKG.She was a terrible nurse, I reported her several times for missed orders and STAT labs and our manager told me not to worry about it.I’m not going to dope you up when your ‘aggression’ was perfectly calculated.I tried to go about it the right way, and again got brushed off, so…”, she shrugged and opened her palms to him, “here we are.”

He nodded calmly, and Natalie realized with embarrassment that she felt better.She had been manipulated and she just couldn’t care less.

Still, best to leave before giving him more.“Can I get you anything else, Dr. Lecter?”

“Ibuprofen for my back, only when you have a moment.You’ve done more than enough for me already.”

“Of course.400 or 600?”

“600 to start, thank you.”

Only when she was locking the door did their eyes meet again.He was sitting perfectly upright, legs crossed almost daintily.She remembered the ballet dancer he had been, and wondered if anyone else in the hospital knew that about him.

***

She found Barney and Seth playing dominoes in the dayroom with several patients, including Ian Miggs.Seth seemed engaged, not bored, and she felt guilty that she had such a negative first impression of him.Everyone, to her great relief, seemed to be doing okay. Hannibal’s business often ate into her time on the floor. 

She believed Ian had a clonazepam due at noon but the acuity of his illness meant that he had frequent medication changes, and as a charge nurse she couldn’t keep up with them all.She had to review the orders before calling him over.

Before she opened the EMR she glanced at the dayroom camera feed.She made a habit of doing this whenever she was at the computer.She saw Aaron Bianchi leave his room and look around.

“Barney,” she called on the radio, “get Seth inside the nurse’s station please.”

On the video she saw Barney look up, notice Bianchi, and nod.Seth was soon shutting the door behind him and walking over to her.

“What’s wrong?" He tried to hide it, but he was clearly nervous.

Bianchi began making his way to the bookshelf.Natalie stood.“Aaron Bianchi.He’s super aggressive.He especially likes to pick on Ian because Ian’s small.”

“Why is he so aggressive?”

She watched Bianchi scan around the room.Ian was facing away from him.Natalie’s heart began to speed up.“I think he was probably always a bully, and all the meth and K2 just cooked his brain.”

Bianchi reached for a book.Before she could blink, it was flying toward Ian’s head.

She called a code on the radio, knowing full well it was all her and Barney as understaffed units across the hospital decided whether they could spare someone to help.

Bianchi and Ian were exchanging blows when she ran out.Bianchi was meaty, but luckily she had Barney today, who stopped him with a strong bear hug.She went for slender Ian, weaving her arms around him to grab his wrists and hold him against himself.Startled, Ian stepped back and took them both to the floor, knocking the wind out of her.She heard the yells and stomps of responders.

“Put Bianchi in the chair!,” she managed to get out between gasps.Ian had shifted out from her hold. He stood over her, his eyes wide with confusion and shock. 

“Hey, fuck you, nurse!,” Bianchi called, still fighting against Barney’s arms.“I didn’t do shit!”

“I saw it, Bianchi!It’s all on camera!,” she rolled over and propped herself up, her back killing her.Someone—a staff, a patient, did it matter—scooped her by the armpits and stood her up.A handful of staff were strapping Bianchi down.Once he saw a group of men, he stopped fighting.This led her to believe his behavior was more calculated than the psychiatrists gave him credit for.

Ian finally seemed to return to himself.He shook his head.“I’m sorry, Miss Natalie.”

“It’s okay, Ian, it wasn’t your fault.Are you okay?,” she asked tenderly, feeling terrible that this kept happening to him and still the Powers That Be would not give her more staff.

He nodded slowly.“I’m okay.”

“What about you?,” came a voice over her shoulder, a voice she loathed.Her manager Charles stood in his nice leather shoes and hands clasped behind his back while Barney wheeled Bianchi to the seclusion room. 

“I’m a little sore, but good.”She was more than a little sore, but she knew she wasn’t seriously hurt, and she wasn’t about to do more paperwork.

“What STATs does he normally get?”

“I’m not going to call for any.”

Charles furrowed his brow.“So you’re going to leave a psychotically agitated person in a restraint without medication?”

“He’s largely behavioral, Charles.He beats up Ian because he can.I’m not going to reward that with getting him high.”

“Mmkay,” Charles mumbled, clearly unconvinced. 

She rubbed her eyes.“I have to start charting all this.If you want to call, go ahead.No benzos.”She walked off, knowing Charles was fuming at her.Their interactions were always tinged with an icy dislike.

When she returned to the nurse’s station, Seth was standing rigid, his face pale.“Jesus Christ, are you alright?”

She laughed.“Just another day in Juliet.Now you get to watch me document it all.‘Cover your ass’ is the most important thing you’ll learn today.”

Just as she sat down, she stood again and groaned.“I have to go give the royalty upstairs some ibuprofen.I’ll be right back.”

“You have to do it right now?,” he asked, and she saw in his eyes that this was not the specialty for him.

She pulled out her hair tie and redid her ponytail.“You don’t keep Hannibal Lecter waiting.Still want to meet him?”She looked at Seth with a devilish grin.Sometimes a little torturing was irresistible. 

Luckily, he took it well.He laughed and shook his head.“I think I’ve had enough for today.”

***

The sound of footsteps coming down the stairs unnerved her. Barney was off today, and Alana always wore heels. No one else could be coming from the fourth floor. Her coworkers swore up and down that the hospital was haunted, and for a moment she wondered if they were right. 

When the footsteps grew closer, she held her breath. This was a flesh and blood person. A man. Natalie paused, waiting for him. 

She recognized his face immediately. She had seen it many times. It was surreal to see it here, alive and corporeal, when she had seen it so often on the news, and more often depicted in charcoal. She breathed in sharply, remembering the first time she realized who he truly was. 

\--- 

After Hannibal assaulted Rebecca, the housekeepers insisted that he be nowhere near when they cleaned his room. Since he lost all privileges over that incident and legally could not be restrained just for their comfort, his room started to clutter, making him unhappy. When he first complained, Natalie offered to clean his room once a week. It was the path of least resistance, but also offered her a chance to see what the hell he did all day. 

Her first time doing this she opted to start at seven, before her shift became full tilt chaos. During report the night nurse (who was with a staffing agency and did not know about the recent nose biting) stated she had given Hannibal melatonin around midnight. He was still out when she arrived. She tried calling to him, but he only stirred slightly in response. 

She let herself in, ignoring the hum of blood in her ears. Somehow this felt more dangerous than walking in when he was awake. 

He was tidy as a cat by nature, so there was not much to do other than replace his trash liner and remove the dirty linens, which were neatly arranged by the door. She decided to take the opportunity to do a contraband search, knowing full well he would have disposed of any the night before. 

When she passed by his table, she saw a piece of lined paper covered in his delicate handwriting. On each line he wrote a statement she recognized from the MMPI, a personality inventory that could detect malingering. Next to the statement he circled an answer, and at the bottom he tallied his points. He was not trying to hide his sanity. Instead, he had thrown the test so far into the psychotic range that it would be obvious upon scoring that it had been a joke to him. She made a note to hint to the poor psychology intern that the testing might not be valid. 

Underneath that was a vivid charcoal portrait of...her. She recalled the day after some thought.She had just participated in a restraint, during which the patient had used a raspberrying motion with his lips to spray her face with spit. Her eyeliner was smudged terribly, her thick black curls spilled wildly from behind her headband. Hannibal spared no detail, yet she looked more beautiful than in her wedding photos. He had a fine hand, there was no doubt of that. 

Another piece lie below. She looked over her shoulder to see that Hannibal had rolled on his side, away from her. Gently, she took the paper between her fingers and slid it out.

A cast iron clawfoot tub, as massive and ornate as she would expect in Hannibal Lecter’s house, contained a young man, his toes and head appearing over the curved ends, his arms dangling out the sides, water dripping from his fingertips to the floor. His curls were a grayish black and stuck to the side of his face. He glistened, his cheeks dark with warmth, his head thrown back in pleasure and relief. She blushed while she studied the expression on the subject’s face. 

The subject was Will Graham. 

She had seen the gossip sites, of course. Freddie Lounds had made a fortune with the term “murder husbands.”She wasn’t sure she believed it before. 

There were dozens of other drawings in various stages of completion.There were other subjects, places and women she didn’t recognize.But Will’s face was predominant.Will in the mirror.Will fishing.Will in various states of undress.

Hannibal started to toss and turn, as though in a nightmare.She placed the papers as she had found them and went to his bedside.His eyes were shut tightly in distress.His sheets were sweaty.

“Hannibal,” she said softly, touching his hand, “you’re having a bad dream.”

His eyes opened.He blinked and said hello, but it wasn’t long before sleep took him again, dragging him into whatever hell he kept from the world. 

\--- 

Will smiled at her just slightly, his eye contact brief. To her surprise, he seemed on the timid side. She wondered what it was about him. He was handsome, definitely. His dark curls were especially becoming. 

They passed one another awkwardly. The staircase was winding and outdated, and Natalie pressed her back to the wall to make room for him. He smelled strongly of aftershave.

She had to know. 

“Mr. Graham?” 

He turned around, his blue eyes bright with surprise. “Yes?” He didn’t sound particularly thrilled. 

“There have been major changes to Hannibal’s treatment plan.He’s on medication now.” _Kind of._

A dark brow rose.“Why do I need to know that?”

She shrugged.“You’re his emergency contact and next of kin.He has a signed release for you allowing for open communication.I assumed—“

Will looked away in response.“No, I’m on Federal business.”

“Oh,” she said, feeling a flare of protectiveness, “I wasn’t aware someone would be here interviewing my patient.His lawyer normally emails the social worker, and me, ahead of time.”

“Not an interview.He’s just advising.”

She crossed her arms, anger and a distant fear coming over her.“I should have been made aware of this, official business or not.I’m responsible for his well being while he’s under my care, and no one has told me to expect you today.”

Will took a step toward her.She didn’t like the way his face changed. Something vicious came over his eyes.“Are you Natalie?”

Her name was on her badge.He wasn’t asking.“Yes, I’m Natalie, the day charge on Juliet.” 

“How much do you know?”

The question hit her, and she wasn’t sure she heard it right.But Will was allowing no time for contemplation.He took another step.He was trying to intimidate her.

_You think I don’t know this game?_ She took a step forward.“All I know is that it happened.And I don’t care.It’s not my business, Mr. Graham.But I do need to know who’s going in and out of my unit, and I’m not sure how you managed to slip through.”

He stopped and examined her for several seconds.Once so shy seeming, his gaze was ripping into her, sizing her up bit by bit.

“I asked him, recently,” he finally said, tense as all hell, “if he had told anyone. He said ‘only someone I trust with my life.’ I thought he was being an ass. Hannibal doesn’t trust anyone. Except you, apparently.” 

Natalie cleared her throat. She didn’t like this, didn’t like this at all. “He didn’t tell me. I’ve just seen drawings.” 

“He _allowed_ you to see.”

“I’m a nurse.People tell me everything.Maybe Hannibal does trust me, and he has good reason to.I won’t tell a soul and _I really don’t care._ But you and Alana _need_ to tell me when you’re going to be alone with my patient.If something happens to him, it’s not her ass.It’s mine and my license.”It wasn’t hard to figure out who had kept Will’s visit off the books. 

Will looked amused, and she didn’t like that either.“You think I would hurt Hannibal?”

“You already have.”

Villainy gave way to humility.He broke his eyes away from hers.She saw his jaw muscles shift under the skin.“I’ll let you know next time.Sorry.”

She relaxed.“That’s all I ask.”

He nodded and began walking away.When he was out of sight, she returned to her ascent.She heard him calling from below.

“You’re a good nurse.”

***

“Is there any way you can come in Sunday morning?” 

Natalie told herself she wasn’t coming in on days off anymore. She was working herself sick, and her husband was getting sick of how stressed and constantly pissed she was.She could hear his voice, admonishing her. 

But Alana was the one asking, meaning that it had to be beyond staffing issues. 

“I probably can. What’s up?” 

Alana wasn’t looking directly at her.That made Natalie nervous. “Hannibal Lecter is being transferred to Eastern State Hospital on Sunday.” 

“ _What?_ Alana, I’m the only one that goes anywhere near him, but somehow I’m always the last to know.I’m getting fucking tired of it.” 

“I know, I’m sorry. I didn’t get confirmation until today.” 

Natalie searched Alana’s face. No psychiatrist alive would accept Hannibal Lecter as a patient, not after disfiguring a nurse and _especially_ not after his article eviscerating Dr. Chilton’s own examination of him, the one that helped him snare Not Guilty by Reason of Insanity. 

“You’re lying to me.” 

Alana did not look remorseful, nor surprised. Just tired. “Yes.Because I can’t tell you the truth, but I need your help.” 

“I wish you would have just told me that.” 

Now she appeared contrite. “I don’t feel good about what I’m doing, please don’t make it worse.” 

Natalie rubbed an eye with the heel of her hand.“What do you need?” 

“For you to put him in restraints. We can do it without you, but it would be easier if you do it. And I thought you would appreciate the chance to say goodbye.” 

Natalie’s larynx bobbed in her throat. Despite herself, she would have been devastated if he had left without word. 

Her husband’s exhausted admonishing faded in her mind. 

“I’ll be there.”

*** 

When Hannibal sat in the chair obediently, as he had for her many times before, he reached out and grabbed her hand.

An electric current, hot and almost painful, ran up her arm.Hannibal had never touched her before.She was more startled and confused than afraid. 

He adjusted his grip to hold her hand gently.He ran his fingertip over the silicone ring she wore in place of a gold band.“Is he good to you?”

She nodded, unsure of what to say.

“You’ve been good to me.Respectful, and friendly.You’ve been a shining light in a dark place.I have no intention of hurting you.Do you understand that?Do you trust me?”

She found her breath.“I believe you don’t want to hurt me.”

Small things in his expression shifted, as though he were slipping out from under the sociopathic veneer.Tiny muscles in his face relaxed.He seemed to open.She believed she was seeing him for the first time. 

“Does it hurt you, restraining me?,” his voice, naturally soft, was so quiet she barely heard him.

She pulled his hand through the fabric loop that fastened against his wrist.“Tying someone up against their will is the worst feeling in the world.”

“I’m not unwilling.”

“I know.”He seemed downright excited to be going wherever the hell he was going.“Everyone’s lying to me.”

“If I thought it were in my best interest to do so, I would tell you.”

“I know,” she repeated, moving behind him to pull the chest straps against his armpits. 

“Natalie?”

“Yes?”

“Will you miss me?”

She squatted down in front him, Hannibal “the Cannibal” Lecter, the Chesapeake Ripper, all strapped down.How many people would give anything to be in her place, to pummel in the pretty angles of his sharp face.

In the right light his eyes were almost burgundy, far from the “brown” listed on his face sheet.

She smiled, feeling a wave of anxiety and relief come over her at once.“I won’t know what to do with myself.”

He seemed pleased at that answer.He wanted to be missed.

She would miss him, a hell of a lot.Swallowing hard, she reached for the radio on her hip.“Shall I call them in?”

“They will want the mask on me.”

That stupid mask, the one the superintendent had approved for use on Hannibal only.A glorified muzzle for everyone else’s comfort.

She unhooked it from the back of the restraint chair and held it in front of his face. 

She didn’t want to do this.“If I go with you, will you try anything?”

His heavy pause was her answer.“You can’t come, Natalie.They won’t allow it, and I don’t want you to.”

She brought the mask closer, fitting his nose in its designated spot.She had to ask.She would not get another chance.

“Do you love him?”

“Yes.”

She tightened the straps across the back of his head.

The textbooks said he was incapable of love.Incapable of feeling.He mimicked, pretended.But he did not have emotions.Even the blandest, most scholarly works on the subject made clear that there were people, and there were sociopaths.

She couldn’t imagine cutting into someone’s head to eat their brain, but he seemed enough of a person.Heat emanated from his body, he had personality, presence.He ate and slept and talked and drew and had back pain. 

“You never told me what the nightmares were about.” 

He shuttered when he inhaled, and she felt guilty for bringing it up.

After a long pause, he shifted in the rickety cart that was Baltimore State’s best line of defense.She was still behind him, hands resting on the handles.He looked into the reflective surface of his plastic wall to meet her eyes.“My little sister was murdered in front of me.Brutally, grotesquely.Wastefully.”

The last word was particularly difficult for him to get out, and he closed his eyes so she could see them no longer.

She exhaled slowly through her nose, feeling a pang deep in her stomach.She rarely admitted this to herself, but some people were just broken.They were missing a piece and spent their lives digging for that piece in a myriad of ugly ways.Whether or not he was a psychopath seemed beyond the point.

_We’re all chasing some dragon._ “Are you safe?”

Something in her voice struck Hannibal rigid.The veneer reassembled, and he was cold again. 

“We are never safe, any of us.God is unparalleled in ruthlessness.”

No arguing with that.She squeezed his shoulder and looked into their reflections.Vulnerability had fled without a trace.He had his eyes open again.

“You can call in the cavalry.”

She nodded.

“Take care of yourself, Hannibal.”

***

The dogs barked, causing her to jump in her skin. She glanced at the clock. 1631. 

Right. Eddie was home. 

Her husband opened the door and cooed at the dogs. They each reached their tiny paws upwards, desperate to be the first one picked up. 

He startled slightly when he saw her. “Oh! Hey baby! I thought you worked today?” 

“Just in the morning."

He walked over to her. She had yet to look him in the eye. Her fingers curled around the neck of a beer.

“Is everything okay?” 

She gestured to the tv screen with her bottle.The sound was off. 

HANNIBAL THE CANNIBAL ON THE LOOSE. SEVERAL DEAD.

"Jesus," he breathed. "So much for the transfer, huh?"

"It's not funny, Eddie."

"I didn't say it was."

She had a bad habit of telling Eddie too much about work. She never used last names, of course. But when the other most prominent man in her life was Hannibal Lecter, how could she not talk about it? How could she not talk about the questions she faced everyday, the stress, the pain?

They watched the news for a while in silence. The dogs whimpered, annoyed their favorite person had yet to pay them mind. Natalie shushed them, her mind feeling dangerously brittle. 

This morning. It was this morning that she put him in the chair, which was  undoubtedly sitting in an evidence room now. This morning they had said their goodbyes. This morning he couldn't promise her that he, or anyone, was safe.

Six people were dead. So far.

“Should we be worried?Will he come for you?”He was trying to be calm, but she could see the panic rising in his face, his eyes brighter with brimming tears. 

“No,” she said with absolute certainty.“I was just his nurse.”

He nodded and smiled tenderly at her.Natalie was relieved to see him trust her so completely.

"Baby, I'm going to take the girls out," he said quietly, bringing the two chihuahua mixes to his chest. "I'm sorry. I have no idea what you're going through."

_No, you don't._ She resented him for that sometimes, though she knew it was unfair. The only people who knew what work was like were her coworkers, and they were all sick of work and sick of each other.

Even then, none of them knew Hannibal. Or the version of Hannibal he presented to her. _A well-tailored person suit._ Hadn't Bedelia du Maurier said that? Or was it Freddie Lounds? 

Her husband leashed up their two ratty mutts and whistled for them to follow. It placed a small smile on her lips. 

"Yes, Hannibal," she said once the front door closed, "he's good to me.”

She had tried to cry over it since the story broke but no tears would come.Rather than lower her inhibitions, booze had only bolstered the numbness, and she couldn’t remember what any emotion felt like.

But when she turned the tv off and started browsing through her phone, something deep inside began to turn on.It appeared like nausea at first, churning in her stomach.Her breathing began to grow more urgent. 

His name was everywhere. 

When she checked her email, there was it was.Facebook, all over.Instagram, there too.A suggested video from every platform.

Hannibal the Cannibal.

Hannibal the Cannibal.

Hannibal the Cannibal.

Rage suddenly surged through her veins and she couldn’t breathe.She ran to the bathroom to wash her face, gasping as her throat seemed to close on her.

Left her care for five hours, killed six people.

Her body scrambled for somewhere to put this.Stuffing or starving herself took too long, she didn’t do any other drugs.All day she had wanted to feel, but whatever the hell _this_ was, it was intolerable.

She punched the wall, chipping the plaster and scrapping her knuckles badly in the process.She frantically washed the blood from the wall and her hands, rueing her decision.Another thing to minimize to Eddie. _Oh I don’t really know what happened.I got too drunk and grazed against something, I guess._

When she finished washing, she lazily wrapped her knuckles in Coban and slid to the floor.All that, and the physical pain was still too far away.She tapped the back of her head against the wall over and over again.

_You goddamn idiot._

_You goddamn idiot._

_You goddamn idiot._

***

  
The night was warm, even for summer. It was so humid sweat formed along her hairline from walking to the front door. 

She stopped abruptly. The door was open.

Eddie often left the door unlocked absentmindedly, even after Hannibal’s escape.It was partially her fault.She had assured him repeatedly that Hannibal had no interest in her.Dropping the Target bag, Natalie pulled the knife from her purse and held it behind her back.

The safest thing for her to do was get lost and call 911, she knew. But it wasn't the safest thing for some junkie kid just trying to steal a laptop for cash, and that she could deal with. She knew desperation like that. She would give the poor bastard some cash. 

And if it was Hannibal, well, she would have to see.

Then she smelled it. Onions and mushrooms sautéing in a pan with garlic. She breathed out, relief coursing through her body. _You anxious idiot. Eddie's home_. 

She gathered her belongings and stepped inside. The girls danced around her feet, yipping and wiggling away. She gave them each a pet before moving toward the kitchen. "Hey! You skipped--"

Eddie was of typical Briton stoutness, and had a manic sort of energy to him when he did things like cook. He watched videos, whistled.Pots clanged and banged.

The man in her kitchen was svelte, graceful, ghostly quiet.A calm washed over her, the kind of calm that came with impending and inevitable harm.

He spoke first.“You’re home earlier than I was anticipating.Not a fan of shopping?”

She picked up one of the dogs and held her to her chest. _As long as they and Eddie are not hurt.As long as my family is alright._ “Not really.I’m sure you’ve noticed our grocery situation.”

“A sparse pantry often comes with shift work.Believe it or not, I have been there myself.Please, take a seat.”

Obediently she sat at the round dining table in between the kitchen and living room.As she did so, the dog ran to join her sister at Hannibal’s feet.

“They’re very pushy with food, I’m sorry.”Her throat was dry.Every word required Herculean effort.

“I take it as a compliment.I will have to get used to it eventually.”

Natalie wasn’t sure what that meant and decided not to ask.The table had already been set.She twirled an empty wine glass between her fingers.“Do you need help?”

“Not at all.”

Seeing her serving dish, her pot holders, in Hannibal’s hands as he set dinner between them suddenly brought her to the present.“If Eddie comes home early—“

He looked at her, his eyes dark in the fading light.“If he is smart, I will not hurt him.He is good to you, correct?”

“Yes.”Her skin broke out in gooseflesh as the numbness started to break. “Please don’t hurt my family.”

Hannibal placed a napkin in his lap.“I have no intention of hurting anyone tonight.”He opened the bottle of red—she was embarrassed by the cheapness of it—and raised his brows inquisitively. 

Natalie nodded and moved her glass toward him.“Can I ask why you’re here?”

“To have dinner with a friend.”He smiled contentedly at her.His skin was marked with cuts in their first stages of healing, and she didn’t need to ask where they came from.“After three years of conversation and tending to me, the least I could do for you was cook you a meal.”

He signaled for her to eat first and she obliged.He had used the ingredients in her house, and she was fairly certain there was no human in the freezer. It was a simple stir fry, yet the most amazing stir fry she had ever tasted.A part of her was grateful that she got the chance to try his cooking.

“It’s incredible, Hannibal.Thank you.”

“You’re most welcome.”

This was the first time she had seen him out of the concrete gray State scrubs.He wore burgundy pants and a long-sleeved navy shirt that complemented the strong cool tones of his skin.The V neck exposed a slight patch of chest hair.His blonde hair had become more silver in hospitalized years.He was actually quite handsome, now that she was seeing him in his element.

She watched Hannibal’s mouth as he ate.The unique curve of it, the thinness of his lips, like the beak of a predatory bird.She watched him swallow, and wondered how many people he had eaten.If he had a preference, like a kestrel for voles.If everything came down to her not being to his taste. 

“Will you call the police?”

He hadn’t looked up from his plate when he asked.He seemed completely indifferent to whichever answer she provided. 

“I don’t see the point.”She continued eating, despite a rapidly decreasing appetite.The wine felt warm and soothing, though, and she continued to drink it despite herself. 

“I’ll take you in,” she added, surprising herself.“I’ll drive you to the police station myself.I’ll be there as long as you need me to.”

Hannibal laughed, and she wasn’t sure if it was in good humor or mocking.“I’m not going to do that.”

“You’ll die in a cell,” she replied, her voice growing urgent.“You won’t get NGRI again.There will be riots if you don’t get life this time around.Maybe if you turn yourself in, you can come back to the hospital.”

In reply, he only shook his head, and it made her crazy.“You’ll be caught eventually.In a few days or a few years, but it will happen.Is this—is he—worth spending the rest of your life locked up?You’re tough, Hannibal, but I don’t know if you can do prison.Prisons smell horrible and the food is worse.Reading material is heavily censored.You’re targeted until you join a gang for protection.I don’t know if you realize what you’re doing.”

“I do,” he said, raising his voice at her for the first time ever.“I’m not deluded, Natalie.I just want a few more years of freedom.”

“With Will.”

“With Will.”

She leaned back, defeated.“You’re addicted to him.Addictions tend to lead to destruction.”

They were silent for a while.He seemed preoccupied, swirling a piece of broccoli in a pool of brown sauce on his plate.She had pushed him, maybe too hard this time.Natalie imagined a dozen scenarios.Him bashing the wine bottle over her head, throwing a knife at her chest, slamming the plate into several pieces to cut her with. 

Despite her worries, it occurred to her she never feared sexual assault when she was alone with Hannibal.There was always a risk of violence, but he was no brute.He was almost feminine himself.She found it strangely comforting.

“I have to ask you a question,” he said finally, delicately placing the broccoli between his teeth. 

“Sure.”She found herself more curious than nervous.

"Why did you continue to care for me, when all of your colleagues refused?”

She was confused.They had discussed this a dozen times.“Someone had to.It was my job.” 

He shook his head.“I don’t want that answer, the nursing answer you’ve always given me.I want the true answer.As your friend.”

_We’re friendly, not friends._ The standard psych nurse response stopped at her lips.Clearly Hannibal believed—or needed to believe—they were friends.

And…weren’t they, in a way?Three years of talking about Dante and their favorite and least favorite specialties in school and their families’ experiences living under the Soviet Union.He made no effort to hide his vulnerabilities from her.He made no effort to hide what he was capable of, either.One time he told her that Rebecca’s foundation tasted cheap when he bit her face.She responded by telling him that it was usually the high end foundations that were perfumed. 

And clearly she had managed to divulge enough over the years for him to figure out where she lived. 

She relented.“A part of it was self-serving, I guess.I wanted to show I could do it, be the bravest, the most committed.Do what no one else could or was willing to do.But it never really bothered me.I liked you.You still needed someone to care for you, and in my gut…I never got the nervous, sinking feeling I get around some of the patients.You were a great patient, to me.And interesting.”

He leaned back, assessing her answer.“Does it disgust you, what I’ve done?”

“No,” she replied without hesitation.“Disgust is the wrong word.I think what you do is wrong.I think you’re selfish, and bore so easily that killing people is the height of fun for you.I think that you’re incredibly lonely.I think your intelligence is a gift and a waste.”

He stared at her, his eyes steely and narrowed.“You have a compulsion to assemble, to tidy the world.To fix holes, right wrongs.That seems a waste of your intelligence to me.”

She knew Hannibal was trying to hurt her.“I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings.I didn’t mean to.I just don’t want you to suffer.”

He considered her before nodding slowly.“I know.Thank you, Natalie.” 

“Is he good to you?”

He glanced at her in surprise. 

She shrugged and topped off their glasses.“You’ve asked me twice if Eddie is good to me.Is Will good to you?”

He pursed his lips, which she had learned was his tell when he was thinking deeply.

“He’s good _for_ me,” he answered.“And he is waiting for me.We should tidy up before your husband returns.” 

Side by side they placed the dishes in the sink.She would have them cleaned and in the cabinets before Eddie’s D&D game finished.He would never believe she cooked.

A hand was on her shoulder and she jumped.Her hands instinctively clenched into fists.Something between sadness and pity flashed in Hannibal’s icy eyes. 

He curved his arms around her upper back and brought her in for an embrace.His palm cupped the back of her head.He was so tall, so lithe with a dancer’s strength.She was strong, but not like this.She closed her eyes and breathed in.The musty, mothball smell of Baltimore State Forensic Hospital was long gone.She didn’t recognize his new scent, but she was sure it was expensive.And there was a linger of aftershave, of Will Graham. 

His hands shifted.She anticipated they would climb to her neck.Instead, they framed her face.He brought his lips to her forehead.

“I left you a present in my old room.Take care of yourself, Natalie.”

***

The mattress was flipped over and opened, its rubbery stuffing exposed.The grout between the tiles had been traced over and over again with her gloved fingertip.Each book he had been allowed was flipped through and shaken.Every corner of the bookshelf had checked and rechecked, using a ladder and penlight for optimal thoroughness.

And still nothing.

_Goddamnit, Hannibal._ She was on the verge of tears.Many state employees did lazy room searches, not necessarily wanting to find anything that would create more paperwork.When patients saw her coming to do them, they often turned over their contraband voluntarily, for which she thanked them. 

Maybe the present was the futility of always trying so hard.Some fucking present.

She sat on the ground and allowed herself a small cry.Just a few tears, then she would sniffle, pick herself up, and decide whether or not to admit defeat.

The floor felt so comforting on her rump that she decided to lie down.The hard cement floor supported the tightened muscles of her back.God, she was tired.

The ceiling.

Her heart raced with realization.

Some of the ceilings at Baltimore State were from the 1970s and were made of the cheap, pliable tiles popular at the time.It didn’t take long for patients to use these ceiling panels to hide bagged hooch or attempt escape, so most of them had been replaced with metal or wood.Not the one in Hannibal’s room, though, which had been storage space before. 

Natalie needed the ladder, but reaching the ceiling would be easy for a long-limbed person a foot taller than her.When she pressed on the panel directly above the bookshelf, two pieces of paper and an object fell to the floor.She descended, her heart beating in her throat.

When she saw what the item was, she punched her thigh in shame and anger.A pen.Not the floppy ones given to patients but a real pen, with metal spring and tip and covered in hard plastic. _I knew I should’ve tried to get Will on the prohibited visitors list.I knew I should have said something, I knew it, I knew it._

She lowered herself to her knees and unfolded the paper that had landed nearest the pen.

_Natalie—_

_You are very thorough, but overworked.I also made this difficult to find.Do not be too hard on yourself._

_I will not lie to you—I thought about using this on you, on occasion.The ideas were fleeting and not entertained for long.I thought about what you would do if I were to attack you.I knew you would fight.So many people, they lose all control of themselves when they believe they might die.It’s rather ugly, the wailing and snotty tears and pleas for mercy.Some even urinate on themselves._

_There are many words to describe you but please know that pathetic is not one of them.You have had a hard and disappointing life, haven’t you, Natalie?And yet you wake up, get dressed, square your shoulders, and come to care for the criminally insane._

_Let me tell you something about yourself: when you were a child, you did not kill spiders or snakes.Where your classmates screamed and contorted their faces in disgust, you walked over and picked the animal up in your little hands.You loved doing this so much you hoped the monotony of your day would be interrupted by a potentially venomous creature._

_You had to prove you were brave, but there was softness there as well.You knew even these loathed animals had something to give, and maybe you felt just as passed over and wronged.Maybe you thought you were a little monstrous, too._

_You have nothing more to prove to me, or anyone else.Just to yourself.And what a monumental task that is._

_We might have been good friends in another life._

_Goodbye, moya sestra._

_I’ll think of you often,_

_Hannibal Lecter_

She crawled to the other paper, which had fallen face down.It was sketching paper, not lined like the letter.She turned it over and saw her face.

It was the sketch she had seen months ago on his desk.He had sharpened the lines and darkened the shadows.She was now highlighted, the center of a ray of light.

He had signed it in the bottom right corner, where he had titled it as well.

_Moya_ s _estra._ My sister.

Her body trembled as she exhaled.She felt incredibly heavy, like she could topple over and break into hundreds of shards across the cold concrete floor.She had never known weariness like this.The thought of having to go through the nurse’s station door over and over again, with no end in sight, made her sick with despair.

She took her phone out of her pocket and texted Alana, fixing the message multiple times, stumbling in her quickness. 

“You’re the first to know.I’m quitting.” 

***

She told the police the next day.She had done it not out of a sense of duty,but out of the overwhelming guilt of hiding it from Eddie, who did not share her feelings of attachment or her moral exhaustion.Her shame was overpowering, and when not talking to the police in person or on the phone she was on the couch, buried underneath blankets.

Hannibal would not have visited her if he had felt threatened by the law.She was sure he was already gone.When she found this a balm, she told herself people were going to die. 

He knew she would tell the police.She was good, or trying to be.

Eddie had hugged and kissed her when she told him she put in her notice.“That’s such a relief.Oh my god, baby, I’m so proud of you.” 

It had hurt like hell.

The police asked her questions she didn’t know the answer to.Did he tell you where he was going, what his plans were, was he with anyone.

She told them Will Graham was probably a collaborator but she had no solid proof.She could see the frustration on their faces when they finally asked _well what did you talk about._

“Ourselves,” she answered each time. 

They offered her protection, which she accepted for Eddie’s sake, and because she didn’t tell them everything.She didn’t tell them about the shared meal and bottle of wine.She didn’t tell them that he had used his butchering surgeon's hands to hug her.

And she didn’t tell them about the letter or the drawing, which were folded and hidden under the jewelry organizer on her nightstand. 

She wasn’t sure what she had been to Hannibal, or what he had been to her.It felt wrong to expose these moments between them that had no bearing on finding him.It felt like betrayal, or exploitation.

Because he had meant a lot to her, even though she couldn’t parse out exactly why or in what way. 

Eventually Natalie decided to forgive herself for that.She had been stressed and unhappy.A lot had been asked of her.She had felt attacked by all sides, patients and management.

So Hannibal served as respite.He appreciated her.Maybe it was all manipulated to feel like this and she played some role in his plan that she didn’t understand.Maybe she was just a dumb girl that he played with for fun.

But whenever she looked to her nightstand, she felt like that couldn’t be true.He had cared about her, maybe even despite himself.He hadn’t lacked in opportunity to hurt her.He had hurt so many, but she didn’t have a scar.

She decided to forgive herself for needing this chapter in her life, this crossing paths with Hannibal.The version of herself before Hannibal was almost meek in her modesty and servitude to others.Hannibal had taught her about taking more for herself.

She hoped she had taught him something, too. 

She hoped to never see him again. 


End file.
